


Enlightening

by SLWalker



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Some Like it Red, help_japan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob Fraser gets a shock when he comes across his son during Some Like It Red; Benton learns a little bit about what it's like to be himself and someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enlightening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whoisus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoisus/gifts).



"--so sorry, ma'am, I didn't know it was possible to get a wrong number in this haunting business. I'll just be on my--"

Benton Fraser nearly took his own eye out with the eyeliner pencil.

His eyes went wide as he looked in the mirror, the soft powder blush on his cheeks doing nothing to hide the very real blood-flow-issue blush that appeared instantly beneath it. "Dad--"

Bob Fraser stared back through the reflection, his own expression mirroring Benton's, minus the blush and plus a mouth hanging open.

Silence passed.

And passed.

And passed.

Unfortunately, it ended.

"--Great Scott, Benton, I know I wasn't the most available father but I thought for sure I taught you better than this! When did this happen? Was it Depot? You got old Finnegan for an instructor, didn't you? I always knew he was a little off, but it just wasn't something we _talked about_ back then or you could ruin a fellow's career--"

 _"Dad."_

Bob took up pacing, gesturing with his hands, looking stunned and seemingly unaware of his son's attempt to speak up. "--Not to say he wasn't a fine officer, but when Buck came across him in laddered fishnets once, we knew that mum was the word. Still, if it's contagious and you have it, son, we need to get you help--"

"DAD!"

Bob stopped and stared, his mouth closing.

Benton took a slow, calming breath and composed himself, looking back into the mirror and attempting to wipe the erratic streak from under his eyelid. "It's for an undercover case. But really, Dad, I would expect more tolerance from you--"

"Tolerance?! You're trying to be Betty Page--"

"I'm going to be a _nun_." Benton sighed, dropping his head and dropping the eyeliner pencil. "Ray needs help with a case. None of the female officers he knows are willing to go in, so I thought I would volunteer."

"This is downright unnatural."

Benton looked up again, raising an eyebrow. "Women are unnatural?"

"You're not a woman!"

"Well, obviously I'm not normally a woman, but in this particular case, I am a woman." Benton looked back at his own reflection, mouth set in a serious line, and critically eyed the auburn wig. "Dad, if you don't have any _useful_ advice, would you please just..."

"Now that you mention it, Benton, that really isn't your color." Bob sniffed, crossing his arms over his red serge, looking haughty. "Really, son, if you insist upon getting in touch with your feminine side--" He couldn't suppress a visible shudder. "--you're hardly a redhead. Unless you're looking for a certain kind of attention."

Benton had, indeed, had a wig he thought suited him better. It met an unfortunate meeting with a young child and a lollipop; he'd had to go back and purchase the one he was wearing now. He was certain that the pitying looks he received from the saleswoman would follow him to his own grave.

He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration; his makeup was already going to need redone, thanks to his father.

"If it bothers you that much..."

"You'll put this silly nonsense behind you?" Bob sounded entirely too hopeful. "You know, son, at this point in your career, you can hardly afford to be caught doing a Priscilla the Drag Queen routine. Can you imagine what kind of--"

"You know where the door is."

Bob 'hmmphed!' and then grumbled inaudibly. Then, when Benton looked up, he was gone.

Small mercies.

\--

In all truth, Benton wasn't particularly disturbed by dressing as a woman. It was no different to him than dressing in red serge, or in the truly ridiculous outfit -- to go with the even more ridiculous name -- that Ray had put him in so that they could go undercover into the used car lot. All of those represented a role he was willing to play, and the solid core of ideals underneath never wavered.

Still, he had to admit that dressing as a woman was... enlightening.

He had always observed people, and observed the walk of women around him now, mimicking it as well as he could. He watched as they moved, watched how they carried themselves, and even as he headed for the 2-7 -- on foot, so he might acclimate to these shoes -- he was refining his own technique.

The thing that struck him most, though, was how the gazes of those he passed slid off of him, like so much water off of a loon. Some uncomfortably; those, he thought, must see through his cover, which made him pay closer attention to his walk and mannerisms. Some, though, simply didn't see him. It was a unique sensation, and he found he liked it. He was anonymous.

Mostly.

"Hey, sweetheart!"

It never occurred to Benton that the voice was directed at him. It had an undertone, however, that he could recognize well from police work -- barely repressed malice, derision, contempt. He raised an eyebrow and turned his head towards the source, prepared to step in on someone else's behalf, and found a pair of dark eyes looking at _him_ above a very ugly smirk.

"I'm not your sweetheart," he answered, mildly, in the most feminine voice he could manage to maintain and still convey the point.

The man came closer, within a few feet; Benton's instincts screamed at him to take up a more defensive posture. And subtly, he did. It didn't seem to register with the man, however, who leaned forward and looked him up and down. "No, you're not. Tell me, baby, what do you have stashed in those tights?" he asked, lips curling up further.

The other people on the sidewalks flowed around them, with averted gazes.

"That's really none of your business."

"Oh, with an advertisement like that, it is."

"No. It's not."

The man grinned outright, and reached out; Benton went to move, to block that arm when another arm inserted itself between them and another man wedged his body in there, shoulders swaying like a boxer's, chest to chest with the first. "Hey, Randy. Lookin' for some action? Yeah? That's what I thought. But I thought you and I had a talk about this. In fact, I think we had a talk about this last week."

Randy sneered, but he backed up immediately. "There's nothin' illegal in looking for a date, _Dick_."

"Does she look interested? No, she does not." The so-called 'Dick' sounded like he was smiling. "Know what menacing is, Randy?"

"Fuck you." Randy shot Benton a glare, proving that he did, indeed, know what menacing was and then turned and stalked away.

The other man turned around and fixed Benton with a stern look. A detective. His badge was clipped to his belt, above the pair of faded blue jeans. "This really isn't the kind of neighborhood where you can get away with this. New in town?"

"Ah... yes. Very new." Benton blinked, then remembered to be more demure. "Thank you, Detective...?"

"Listen: If you want to hit the scene, you're better off in Boystown. It's in Lakeview, and you won't run into this kinda thing unless some of the local bigots decide to go on one of their hazing sprees. Which doesn't happen too often. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Okay, good. Let me call you a cab." The detective gave him a warm twist of a grin, then turned and hailed for a cab. "Hey! Taxi!"

As Benton got into the cab, he replayed the incident in his mind and came to the conclusion that yes, this was definitely a learning experience.

\--

"Here, ma'am, allow me to get that."

"Oh! Thank you kindly."

"Anything for a lady!"

\--

"Would you like a hand, Miss?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"My pleasure."

\--

"Hey, baby, know where you can wrap those legs of yours?"

"Hey! You don't knock that off, pal, and you can find out where I'll wrap _mine_!"

"Ray, really..."

"What, she your wife?"

"Yeah! You gotta problem with that?!"

"Ha! No, I ain't got a problem."

"Good."

"Ray, I could have handled that."

"Benny... just don't talk to me right now. God, I can't believe I just did that. I'm never gonna live this down, if anyone finds out, and don't you dare give me that innocent look, you know perfectly well..."

\--

The learning experience didn't end with his first day; truly, it didn't even end when he was able to drop his cover. There were a number of things that Benton took away with him from it: That pantyhose were very uncomfortable. That underwires on bras were likewise. That after his initial walk to the 2-7 and his observations along the way, he became far better at maintaining his cover and was able to continue through the rest of the assignment undiscovered, right up until it was at its resolution.

Mostly, though, he learned that men and women were treated very differently. It was something he had always known, but he had never truly _understood_ before.

Women had always been a mystery to him. In many ways, they still were. But when he put the auburn wig away, Fraser had to admit to a certain pang of regret that he likely wouldn't be called to put it on again. It had been enlightening. Even at times exhilarating, in his anonymity. In being someone wholly different and still the same; in exploring a facet of the world he'd never seen before.

"Thank heavens," Bob Fraser said, heaving a sigh of relief. "And a damn good thing this didn't get back to your superiors, son, or you might have found yourself booted out to start up your new career as a burlesque dancer. Did I ever tell you about the time--"

"Dad."

"--that Buck and I took in that suspect who had been working the miners? Now him, he could pull it off, and he did; we couldn't figure out why--"

"You should try it."

 _That_ was enough to make Bob stop.

Benton raised his eyebrows, closing the box top to Ms. Fraser's wardrobe, and smiled a private smile to himself.

"Are you mad?!"

"No, Dad. But really, you should try it sometime. That is, if it's possible to cross-dress in the afterlife." Benton cocked his head to the side, grinning openly, rubbing his tongue just behind his canines to keep from laughing at his father's expression. "Come to think of it, don't _I_ have some influence on your wardrobe?"

Bob's mouth opened and closed, repeatedly, gaping and not-quite sputtering.

"It's really very enlightening."

Bob closed his mouth and disappeared. Which was, in all truth, exactly what Benton had wanted him to do.

He chuckled to himself as he carried the box over to his closet, shaking his head. "Indeed."


End file.
